


Emotional Vulnerability is Important

by fongia



Series: A Life Well-Lived: A Collection of Marvel Works [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Mild Language, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fongia/pseuds/fongia
Summary: ENDGAME SPOILERS WITHIN-Redemption is a funny thing, Tony thinks as he walks away. You’re never worthy of it, just look at the Merchant himself, but you can try everyday at being better. That has to be enough.





	Emotional Vulnerability is Important

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame spoilers within. Readers beware!
> 
> -
> 
> Goddess Generator, wise as she is fair, granted me one sentence: "What do you remember about your mother?"
> 
> Set in an alternate universe where Tony and Natasha didn't die (technically), but not everyone is magically okay. 
> 
> Rated T for language.

It was Tony’s idea. Well, it was Pepper’s, really. To have one last get-together, to celebrate their victory before the real world came knocking. Saving the universe didn’t change the fact that half of the Avengers were still international criminals. Tony’s stomach twists as he considers that, and makes a note to schedule a press conference soon. He has to spin it in their favor to win the public, and maybe then, the Avengers would have a chance of being forgiven.

 

Stark Tower is the beacon it always was, dominating the skyline in a New York City revived overnight. There are Asgardians and Wakandan royals and Dr. Strange’s magical allies, all milling about and chatting as if Thanos hadn’t nearly wiped them all from existence a few days ago.

 

Morgan is fast asleep a few floors up, along with the youngest Bartons. Tony brings up footage from cameras in the room, zooms in on her sleeping face before dismissing it as Romanoff approaches.

 

She isn’t their Natasha, her existence had something to do with messing with the timeline or Bruce’s snap—either way, she moves all wrong, too measured and precise to be anything like Nat, even if Romanoff does have both their memories. Nat prided herself on being able to figure Tony out all those years ago, but Tony didn’t lead the top weapons manufacturing company for nothing. He knew how to read people, even if Romanoff was able to be as aggravatingly blank as Nat.

 

Romanoff’s alarms were going off. Even the Red Room couldn’t hide that.

 

“Never took you for the fathering type.” Romanoff says. She sips her drink.

 

Tony sips his own. Apple juice.  “Never took you for the type to stick around.” He says.

 

“Maybe you don’t know me that well.”

 

“Maybe I know you too well.”

 

They sip their drinks in unison. Romanoff hasn’t broken eye contact, and Tony won’t blink, even if his eyes are starting to water.

 

He loses the contest and blinks rapidly. Romanoff’s lips twitch, and she takes a seat beside him. FRIDAY has eyes over every inch of the Tower, but Romanoff found a spot between two cameras, just barely visible on both, a red ghost.

 

She stares out at the party and raises an eyebrow when Tony adjusts FRIDAY’s cameras to cover the blind spot. Tony simply stares in response.

 

“I trusted you. The other me did.” Romanoff says softly, nearly lost to noise of the party.

 

“I trusted you too.”

 

“Why?”

 

Tony laughs. “I don’t know. I didn’t have much reason to. But I have been told I have a habit of taking in strays.” His eyes fall on the backs of Steve and Barnes.

 

“I don’t know who I am.” Romanoff says. “I have memories from two people, but they’re both me. She had a family.”

 

“And you didn’t.” Tony catches the way Romanoff flinches back, a barely imperceptible movement on anyone else but blaring on the spy. He sees her close off, turn to face the party more, but he lays a hand on her arm.

 

It is a dangerous move. Romanoff isn’t Nat, and she could very easily take his hand off.

 

But she doesn’t, and Romanoff turns back to face him.

 

“I’m sorry. I know what she—you—went through. It’s just frustrating when you’re wearing her face and you have her memories, but you’re not Nat.”

 

“I trusted you the most. Next to Clint.” Romanoff says. “I don’t know why. You’re the type of person I’d kill without remorse.”

 

“Really feeling the love here.” Tony says.

 

“But you’re kind, and selfless, and loving. I trusted you because you trusted me, even when I gave you no reason to. I don’t understand.”

 

“Nat wanted forgiveness, but she wanted to earn it. She wanted to be worthy.” Tony puts his drink down and meets Romanoff’s eyes. “But you can never be worthy. Nothing you do can erase your past.”

  
Tony senses Romanoff withdrawing from the conversation as she takes another sip.

 

It must be the fact that they share a face, but Tony places a hand on her arm again. This time, he can see the dangerous glint in Romanoff’s eyes, the rigidity of her body like that of a coiled snake.

 

“But you do your best to be a better person everyday. That’s all you can do. You can’t wipe all the red, but you can try. And that’s what Nat did. That’s what you can do too. Nat tried to be a better person everyday. She opened up, made herself vulnerable.”

 

Romanoff’s eyes are a fraction wider, and the danger is passed.

 

“I saw parts of me in Nat. And I know that you aren’t her, but you have a part of yourself that wants to change. Maybe it’s buried deep down, maybe it’s near the surface, but it’s there. Embrace it like Nat did, and you’ll understand why I trusted you.”

 

Tony clears his throat and stands. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Romanoff staring intently at her half-full glass.

 

Tony finds himself at the center of a party, which should be his element, but he finds nowhere to go. Pepper is talking to Van Dyne and Pym, which Tony doesn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. He’s no Howard, but there is still resentment on Pym’s part. Rhodey is with Nebula and some of the Guardians, surprisingly. It looks like he’s letting her try tortilla chips, and Tony’s chest warms when he sees her astonished face when she tries guacamole. Rhodey meets Tony’s eyes from across the room and beckons him over, but Tony shakes his head and points towards the food table. Rhodey rolls his eyes before laughing at some joke Quill cracked. The Guardians are a strange bunch, and Quill even stranger, even if he was from Earth.

 

Tony passes by Valkyrie slamming a bottle down so hard it shatters, sending glass flying everywhere. She belches, and pumps her fist victoriously as Thor admits defeat. Seeing Thor again after five years was nice, but the change was jarring. Tony supposed losing most of your civilization did that to people.

 

“Clean that up!” Tony calls, before making his way to the food. Valkyrie says something about losers mopping the floor, and Tony smirks before leaving them behind him.

 

It’s mostly finger foods: chicken nuggets (Morgan’s request—and Lang’s, surprisingly, and not even on his daughter’s behalf, not that it would make it any better), fries (also Morgan), pastries, sliced fruit, and more food that Tony couldn’t be bothered with. He grabs some nuggets and pops one into his mouth before looking around the room.

 

Peter spots him before Tony does, and Tony can’t stop the wide grin when he sees the teen approaching.

 

“Mr. Stark, I mean, Tony, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

 

“What did I tell you about the Mr. Stark stuff? Makes me feel as old as I am.” Tony waves a nugget at Peter threateningly. “Want a nugget?” Tony drops it into Peter’s hand.

 

They eat in silence for a moment, Peter’s eyes flitting around at looking at anything besides Tony. “Thanks for, um, rescuing me. And I’m sorry for sneaking onto the ship. Not that it would have changed anything.”

 

“No, it wouldn’t have.” Tony sighs. Peter is still fidgeting. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kiddo. It happened already, and you’re safe now. Just don’t do something reckless like that again.”  
  
Peters nods eagerly. “I won’t!”

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “You and I both know you’re going to end up on the news within the next few weeks. Just don’t take unnecessary risks and listen when I tell you something.”

 

Peter rubs the back of his neck and scuffs his shoe against the floor. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Hey.” Peter looks up. “You did good.” Peter collides into him, gangly arms wrapping around Tony. Tony drops the nuggets he’s holding and holds his arms out before patting Peter awkwardly.  
  
“I’m so glad you’re not dead.” Peter mumbles into Tony’s shirt. Tony doesn’t mention the wet spot on his chest, or the fact that Peter rubs his eyes before stepping back.

 

“Go on, have fun. I’m an old man, you don’t want to hang around me.” Tony says. As soon as Peter returns to Harley, Cooper and Cassie where they had cards splayed across a table.

 

Tony blinks and rubs his eyes before throwing away his dropped food. He goes wandering off, eventually ending up on a balcony in the twilight. The air is cool, sending goosebumps up his skin, but Tony simply stares out at the city and listens to how it should sound: the city that never sleeps. It took over five years, but they did it. The Avengers saved not only New York City, but the entire universe.

 

He feels another presence, the slight shift of air behind his back. Tony can count the amount of people that are able to manipulate the shadows that well on two hands, and nearly all of them should be dead. But only two are currently in attendance.

 

Tony simply looks back, eyeing the man nearly hidden in the night.

“What do you remember about your mother?”

 

_Did you know?_

_I don’t care. He killed—_

 

But that isn’t quite true, is it?  
  
It is so easy to hate James Barnes. To hide anything that remains of Bucky behind the steely facade of the Winter Soldier and hate him with blind rage.

 

If he’s being honest with himself, Tony just wants someone to blame. That younger self within him, the one that played the piano to an empty room to feel the ghost of his mother’s fingers above his own, that Anthony wants something, _someone_ , to point a finger at. His mother and Howard, gone in an instant.

 

He hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

 

But Barnes is not Bucky, and Bucky is not the Winter Soldier. Even Anthony can tell that, as grief-stricken as he is, and Tony is too prideful to admit it.  
  
Who can blame him? His anger was justified. What came after was not.

 

“I remember that she always played my [favorite song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3iEoZdImpY) from a musical we saw together. Even if I requested it for the millionth time, she’d do it, and eventually she taught me. I never got the chance to play it back to her.”

 

“She sounds like a lovely woman.”  
  
“The best.” Tony agrees. It’s odd, talking to a man he nearly killed a few years ago, but he isn’t that Tony anymore, and for that matter, neither is Barnes. For someone that went through what he did, Tony’s surprised at how put-together Barnes is.

 

But Tony didn’t miss the rigidity of Barnes’ frame as he edged slowly out of the darkness into the light spilling out from the party.

 

Tony waves Barnes forward. “It’s weird talking to you when I can barely see you.” Tony turns back to stare out at the city.

 

There is a moment of stillness before Barnes slowly makes his way to Tony’s left. Just far enough that Tony regrets how it all went down in Siberia, but the cards were already played. It’s time to deal with the aftermath.

 

“She loved tulips. My father would always buy her a bouquet of different colors whenever he remembered, but her favorites were the red ones. She used to snip the ends and place them in the biggest vase she could find and admire them until they wilted.” Tony finds himself saying. It comes spilling out as soon as he starts, almost like he wants to tell Barnes. He wants to trust the man, wants to move on from the mess between them, and without the knee-jerk anger, it seems possible.

 

“I remember when I dug up some of them from her garden to give to her. She came the closest she’s ever been to yelling at me that day. Howard just frowned and told me to go change before I tracked dirt everywhere. I didn’t leave my room until she knocked, and we just sat in her garden. She added the tulips I gave her to the vase, and she had new ones planted. I never breathed near her flowers after that.”  
  
Tony can see Bucky smiling, a small thing almost lost to the black. What was it with scary assassins and emotional constipation? Oh, right. The trauma.

 

They stand in silence. Bucky refuses to meet Tony’s eyes, instead looking out onto the city below.

 

“I can never forget that you killed my parents.” Barnes’ grip tightens on the balustrade. Nearly a whisper, his robotic arm flexes and whirs. “But I forgive you.”  
  
Bucky flinches and steps back. He finally looks at Tony, grey eyes tracking him like an enemy and arm held in front of him, reminiscent of Steve raising his shield.

 

“Is it really that surprising?” Tony laughs sardonically. “Don’t answer that. You probably heard it all from Steve, but that wasn’t you. It might have been your face, your hands, but that wasn’t _you_. That was the Winter Soldier. I think even I am mature enough to make the distinction. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s long overdue.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m getting that question a lot today.” Tony closed his eyes.

 

_The Winter Soldier’s hands, one metal and one flesh, hot and cold, the bringer of death as his hands close around his mother’s throat, cutting off her pleas—_

 

_Bucky choosing to be frozen, Bucky fighting desperately after thawing, a soldier lost at sea but doing the only thing he knows: shoot to kill, even if his eyes are wild as he reaches out for Steve before disappearing—_

 

Everything between them is second-hand, old hurts and separate traumas compounding and sending them both hurtling towards conflict and collision. They are two men shattered again and again, Bucky more than he, but Tony can recognize the man seeking redemption, rebirth, the same way that Romanoff wants to clear her ledger. He sees himself, the man with weapons in his mind, and destruction in his hands, and he sees Barnes, the man with an arm that can do nothing but destroy, annihilate. Tony breathes deeply.

 

“You are not your past. I know how it feels to want to escape it. Yours is a bit more complicated, but you don’t have to define yourself from what the Winter Soldier did using your face. What HYDRA did to you.”

 

Barnes is silent, considering. His arm drops to his side and he simply stares.

 

“You’re a good man.” He says finally.

 

Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t encourage my ego.” When Barnes doesn’t say anything, Tony rolls his eyes and grabs his metal arm. “Come on, we’re going back inside. Emotions make me tired, and I’m freezing.”

 

When they get back to the party, no one seems to notice besides Steve. Steve tries to look inconspicuous as he stares at the two of them from the corner of his eye.

 

Tony drags the both of them to Steve’s group. Sam and Wanda are here, and Wanda scoots over to make room as Bucky takes a heavy seat next to Steve. Bucky stares at the table and refuses to meet anyone’s eyes. Tony sits down gingerly next to Wanda and feels distinctly out of place.

 

Tony crosses his legs and leans forward before his chest protests and he hides his discomfort behind adjusting his shirt and leaning back. “Did you try the nuggets?”

 

Steve looks pained while Sam coughs into his fist. Wanda giggles, which sounds strange on her, but it makes her sound young. Tony’s stomach twists when he realizes that she _is_ young.

 

“No, I didn’t.” Sam says.

 

“They’re actually very good. Hey, where’s Lang, he asked for them—”

 

“Tony.” Steve’s voice brings his attention back. Sam and Wanda look between the three of them before silently dismissing themselves.

 

“Steve.” Tony says evenly.

 

“What happened?”

 

“We hugged, cried on each other’s shoulders and made up over the beautiful New York City skyline. Very manly. It’s important to be emotionally vulnerable.”

 

Steve purses his lips. “Tony—”

 

“It’s fine, Cap. Don’t worry about it. I forgave him, his assassin brain can’t comprehend, I brought the malfunctioning Barnes back to you.”

 

Steve’s mouth opens and closes. “You forgave him?”

 

Tony nods. “I’m a little offended that you’re surprised.” At Steve’s narrowing eyes, Tony waves his hands. “Yes, yes, I went crazy on the both of you. I realize now that my actions were wrong.”

 

He forces the words out, but he manages. Steve relaxes at the words, so no over-protective Cap on his ass for the rest of the night.

 

“I’m, uh— Glad.” Steve says.

  
The three of them sit in silence for a few moments.

 

“I’d love to stay and stare at literal examples of human perfection—is that facial structure hereditary, because _damn_ , Steve—but I have enough time to have existential crises on my own, and I’d like not to do so at a party.” Tony stands and hopes that the two supersoldiers didn’t hear his knees popping.

 

Tony winces before rubbing his back. “God, this superhero stuff is catching up to me.”

  
“The booze too.” Barnes says, voice raspy. His eyes meet Tony’s before skittering away.

 

Tony flicks him the bird. “Just wait until you’re my age. Actually, I take that back.” He tries to think of a better comeback before throwing his hands up. “Supersoldiers.”

 

 _Redemption is a funny thing_ , Tony thinks as he walks away. You’re never worthy of it, just look at the Merchant himself, but you can try everyday at being better. That has to be enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Endgame, why must you hurt me this way?


End file.
